


Yond Snape

by Svartalfur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfur/pseuds/Svartalfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slughorn pursues Snape. An account of the burgeoning relationship between two Slytherins on the background of the events of <i>Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yond Snape

_Let me have men about me that are fat,  
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights._  
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

The cauldron simmered gently over the fire. With soft hissing sounds, slivers of asphodel root disintegrated in an infusion of wormwood - a familiar melody, as soothing as a lullaby. Blue steam emanated from the brew, and the dungeon classroom shimmered like the foggy borders of a fairy realm, promising immeasurable riches or everlasting peace.

Chop. Chop. Chop. The brewer had no eye for the beauty of his art tonight. His silver knife sliced the valerian root with precision, but he didn't pay attention to the movements of his hands. Chop. Chop. Chop. Knitted brows, his mouth set into a frown, he watched the door. The fire under the cauldron was the only source of light, and it was hard to distinguish between the play of the shadows and the motions of an intruder. Twice already, he had stopped his work to stand stock-still, wand at the ready. False alarm. Chop. Chop. Chop.

Putting his knife aside, he weighed the slices on brass scales and added them to the brew. He started to stir it in a precise rhythm. Bent over the cauldron, his stern features distorted by shadows and flames, he looked like the caricature of a witch from a Muggle book of fairy tales, bony, hideous and full of hatred. There were no orphaned children in the cupboard, though, no starved victims of nefarious plans, only rows and rows of potions ingredients, dead and bottled.

The moment he cast Lumos to inspect the labels on the vials, the door banged open and the torches on the walls flared up. Severus Snape froze in his position, caught red-handed, a trespasser and a thief.

"Severus, Severus," Horace Slughorn said. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" He sniffed the potion fumes that emanated from the cauldron. "And why are you brewing in the dark?"

Snape watched the old man twirl his moustache and waddle to the cauldron, a fat genie in lilac silk, surrounded by smoke. "It isn't necessary for you to inspect my work. I'm perfectly capable -"

"Shush, my friend. Allow a colleague to admire your art." Slughorn took a ladle, scooped some of the blackcurrant-coloured liquid into a vial and turned it this way and that in the light of the nearest torch, treating it like a wine connoisseur might treat a glass of Chateau Mouton Rothschild.

"Ah, Severus, you're indeed a master of our profession. Maybe not as inventive as our dear Damocles, but your art is so much more elegant and subtle. This is the most refined base for the Draught of Living Death I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon. Beautiful."

Slughorn turned the vial one last time and put it on the table. "It's a pity that you won't be able to complete it tonight."

Snape, who'd watched the old man's antics without so much as the blink of an eye, stepped up to tower over him. "And why, pray tell, would that be? I'm sure that you're only too glad to help me out here." He gestured at the fuming cauldron and the supply cabinet.

"Of course, my dear friend, of course. Where are my manners? You're welcome to use my workstation as well as my supplies any time. Doubtless you were aware of that when you sneaked in here last week and tonight."

"Everyone who knows you knows of your generosity," Snape said, bowing his head. His eyes twitched, and his hand, still holding the illuminated wand, trembled.

Slughorn's laughter made his whole body wobble like jelly. "I'm glad to hear that my reputation still stands. I'm only afraid that I have bad news. The supplies of Sopophorous Beans are short this year."

Slughorn took a glass bottle out of the pocket of his lilac pyjamas and shook it demonstratively. A few brown beans that looked like the faeces of an oversized rodent rattled in the glass. "One for each sixth-year, that's all there is."

Snape turned on his heel and headed for the door. When Slughorn spoke again, he paused on the threshold.

"Naturally, as a man of foresight, I put some by in my private stores. For a rainy day, so to speak. I could be persuaded to share ... with a very close friend."

"What do you want?"

"They are of great value indeed. If you were to buy them at an apothecary before the next harvest, it would easily cost you a month's salary and more. If they are for sale at all."

Snape stood motionless in the doorway with his hands clasped around his forearms, the glowing tip of his wand pointing sidewards. "What do you want?" he repeated.

Pudgy fingers trailed along Snape's arm, and a moustache tickled his neck when Slughorn whispered, "I can think of something that would be pleasant for both of us. Can't you?"

With an indignant snort, Snape swept out of the door, banging it shut behind him.

* * *

The Hog's Head bar was crowded for a week night. At a table in one of the windows, a group of old witches - hags, for all that Snape could tell - were discussing the shortcomings of wizards in screeching tones. Hagrid and Mundungus Fletcher at the bar were having a lively discussion with Aberforth, but even the half-giant's voice couldn't drown out the devilish racket made by the crones.

Snape left his seat in the corner beside the fireplace to get himself another Firewhisky.

"Professor Snape," Hagrid shouted over the noise, "come, join us for a drink." He patted a free barstool with one hand and Snape's back with the other, fighting hard to keep his balance.

Careful not to get buried by a Hagrid-shaped avalanche, Snape went further down the bar. "No, thank you," he said, tapping the counter with impatient fingers. When Aberforth finally dragged himself away from his mates to refill Snape's glass, Snape took the bottle instead and returned to his shadowy corner.

Half a bottle of Old Ogden's later, and the world looked brighter. The hags had decided that Mundungus and Hagrid were convenient prey. Their shameless overtures had driven the wizards from the bar, and the witches had followed. Only one of them remained, hidden behind a black veil, turning her head occasionally when Aberforth moved behind the counter.

Snape poured himself another whisky and stretched his legs out. His eyes were half closed and his hands lay on the armrests of his chair. From time to time, the corners of his lips twitched.

The reflection of firelight on golden waistcoat buttons made Snape open his eyes and sit up straight. He nodded a greeting to the fat man who lowered himself carefully into the chair next to Snape.

"Severus, my dear," Slughorn said, "what a delight to meet you."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here, outside of Hogwarts in the middle of the night?"

"What does it look like?" Snape gulped the rest of his whisky and refilled the glass from the bottle. His movements were slow, but precise.

"On a week night, nonetheless." Slughorn sipped his wine. "If you remember to bring your own glass, Aberforth's oak matured mead isn't too -"

"Besides, I could ask you the same thing."

"Ask me what, m'boy?"

"Why you're here." Snape's voice was very soft, and his hands gripped the armrests so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

"Why, Severus, isn't that obvious?"

Shaking his head, Snape got up. "Stop harassing me, old man," he said, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Then he fell over a chair.

The hag in the window howled with laughter while Aberforth and Slughorn helped Snape back to his feet.

"He can't be left alone," Aberforth said. "Apparating is dangerous in his condition, even if it's only for so short a distance as to the school gates."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him." Slughorn wrapped an arm around Snape's waist. "Lean on me, dear boy, lean on me."

"Good riddance," the hag screeched, "and have fun, boys." Her infernal cackle followed them into the street.

The moment the door closed behind them, Snape struggled free from Slughorn's grip. "I can walk without assistance," he said, feeling his way along the wall. Snape stopped at the end of the building, and Slughorn caught him just in time when he reached out his hands to cross the gap between houses. Swearing, they landed on their behinds.

"By Merlin's beard, Severus," Slughorn, back on his feet, said, "I'm only trying to help you."

"You're trying to get into my pants." Snape nodded twice. "That's it. That's why you're following me around."

"Be that as it may, my dear. I certainly won't take advantage of you in your deplorable condition."

After another failed attempt to get up, Snape took the proffered hand. "Don't trick me, old man," he said.

"Never. I even brought a Sobering Potion, in case ..." Slughorn took a small vial out of his waistcoat and offered it to Snape.

Snape examined the vial in the moonlight and sniffed it. "If I wanted to be sober," he finally said, returning the potion, "I wouldn't have spent a fortune on booze."

"Come on then."

They walked down the High Street together. From time to time, Snape tripped over his own feet, but Slughorn succeeded in keeping him upright. After they'd crossed the railway tracks at Hogsmeade Station, Slughorn held his side and panted heavily. "Let's have a rest," he said, indicating a group of tree stumps at the side of the path. "You are heavier than you look, my dear, and I'm not -"

"Shush." Snape made a silencing gesture. From somewhere behind a hedgerow, they heard strange sounds, neither human nor beast-like.

"There's something out there," Snape said and crept through a small gap between two hawthorn bushes. On the grassland between the scrub and the tracks, he found the source of the noise. Mundungus Fletcher - identifiable only by his straggly ginger hair and the tattered overcoat that was lying discarded at his side - was banging one of the crones. The witch was lying on her back, still clothed and veiled, digging her claws into the wizard's back. Snape was mesmerised by Mundungus' naked arse, shining white in the moonlight and contracting with every thrust.

"You see," Slughorn whispered in Snape's ear, all hot breath and tickling moustache, "every Jack will find his Jill. It's easy like that. Why don't we ..."

Snape didn't listen anymore. He pushed Slughorn away and Disapparated with a loud crack.

* * *

From the heights of the Astronomy Tower the battlements and gargoyles below looked diminutive in comparison. It was unusually cold for September, and the wind howled over the crenellated ramparts and pitched roofs. Dark clouds drifted over the sky, hiding and revealing the moon in irregular intervals. The grounds were alternately bathed in silvery light and pitch-dark.

Snape leaned over the parapet, his face hidden behind long hands, white and skeletal in the moonlight. A flock of Thestrals rose from the Forbidden Forest, chasing each other in a wild race across the sky. A cloud darkened the moon, and they were gone.

After conjuring a shield against the storm, Snape lit a cigarette with the tip of his wand. When he let the shield down, and a gust of wind dishevelled his hair, Snape laughed out loud. For long moments, he stood like that, smoking one cigarette after the other while the storm caressed his face.

A dark dot moved slowly up the drive. When it reached the castle, the front doors opened. Yellow light illuminated the stone steps, and Snape recognised the Headmaster's purple travelling-cloak.

"I won't do it," Snape shouted against the storm, "I won't do it." The doors closed, and everything was dark again.

"What won't you do, my dear?" a voice asked, clearly audible in the sudden calm.

Snape spun around. Slughorn's fat body was pressed against the wall, his hands clutching the iron ring of the door.

"Afraid of heights, old man?" Snape leaned backwards over the parapet and let his feet dangle. When he stood upright again, Slughorn was green in the face.

"What do you want?" Snape asked.

"I have a present for you, my dear."

Snape crossed the distance between them in one stride and loomed over Slughorn. "A present?"

"I met my sixth-years for the first time today."

Snape sneered.

"Very talented boys and girls, very talented."

"More likely a bunch of brain addled fools. Malfoy's somewhat talented, I give you that. The others - cretins."

"The boy's mediocre at best. And a bootlicker."

Snape snorted. "It takes one to know one," he said under his breath.

"Severus, Severus, you shouldn't let house loyalties and an old grudge affect your ability to judge."

"Are you here to lecture me?"

"Of course not, my dear." Slughorn patted Snape's arm in an appeasing manner. Snape bared his teeth and retreated to the parapet.

"I told you, I have a present for you." Slughorn took a vial from his maroon smoking jacket and held it out to Snape with one hand, careful not to let go of the door handle with the other. The clear liquid in its glass confines glittered like a star in the moonlight.

"This is one of my sixth-years' first attempt at the Draught of Living Death. Remarkably gifted, don't you think?"

"Anyone can be lucky now and again, even Miss Granger."

"If you think so. I thought you might like to test it. After all, the credit goes to you, as their long-time teacher."

Clouds darkened the moon as Snape reached for the vial. Slughorn pulled it away. "There's one tiny condition."

"What do you want?"

"To talk to you. Would you be so kind as to visit me in my quarters? Tomorrow, right after curfew?"

A roll of thunder in the distance, and Snape grabbed the potion. A stroke of lightning, and Slughorn fled. Rain poured down in torrents, transforming the leaden roofs below into gigantic percussion instruments. The gargoyles, not impressed, vomited over the ramparts. Snape, on the parapet, laughed.

* * *

When Snape arrived at the entrance to Slughorn's quarters at exactly ten o'clock the next evening, the portrait swung open without a word. The room he entered was stuffed to the ceiling with books and knick-knacks, sharing shelf space with boxes of chocolates and bottles of wine and liqueur. The huge piano in the corner and the overabundance of soft chairs and footstools contributed to the cramped and stifling atmosphere of the place. Snape frowned at the velvet cushions that were strewn everywhere and sniffed the air. The heavy and musky scent of an oriental perfume was overpowering. Snape sneezed.

"Severus, my dear, welcome to my humble abode." Slughorn stood in the doorway to the adjoining room, wearing nothing but pale turquoise pyjamas and a mustard-coloured tasselled hat. Donning a smoking jacket of the same colour, he waddled to the fireplace.

"What may I offer you? Some elf-made wine?" Slughorn took a crystal decanter from the mantelpiece. "Or maybe a glass of the finest sherry of Jerez? It's a personal present from the Spanish Minister of Magic. I introduced him to his wife, a student of mine, when he was ambassador in Wizarding Britain."

"Nothing, thank you."

"Severus, Severus, every once in a while you should let yourself enjoy the luxuries life has to offer. Oh, and sit down, please."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Slughorn poured some wine into two Venetian glasses, put one on the occasional table next to Snape's chair and sat down across from his guest. "Chocolates, my dear? Crystallised pineapple?" Accio'ing a silver dish from the adjoining room, he offered it to Snape.

They sat like that for long moments, Snape stark, stiff and stern, Slughorn happily munching sweets.

"You know, my dear," Slughorn finally said, "when I first stumbled across you in my classroom, raiding my stores -"

"I wasn't raiding -"

"Let me finish, please.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes. When I first noticed the tell-tale signs of your addiction, I was unsure about how to proceed. After all, as a Hogwarts professor, an esteemed colleague, your behaviour is not only disastrous for your health, it endangers those under your care and the reputation of our beloved school. If the Daily Prophet gets wind of -"

"How dare you? I am not addicted, and if that gutter paper starts spreading false rumours, I'll know exactly where they come from." Snape's voice was low and threatening, and he concentrated hard to make his glare rival that of a basilisk.

Slughorn continued unperturbed. "My dear boy, believe me, I know an addiction when I see it. Since when has Dreamless Sleep lost its effect on you?"

Snape only shook his head.

"You must be really desperate to resort to the Draught of Living Death to get rid of your dreams."

Snape gritted his teeth.

"These are hard times, especially for Slytherins like us. I have to admit, the thought of He Who Must Not Be Named roaming free has bereft even me of my joie de vivre. If it weren't for my excellent condition," Slughorn rubbed his fat belly, "I'd have trouble sleeping, too."

Snape balled his hands into fists.

"Why don't you simply tell me what's bothering -"

"Stop it at once." Snape's fist crashed down on the arm of his chair, only to bounce back from the soft cushioning.

"Severus -"

"I have a stressful job, a demanding boss, and I have to be alert up to twenty hours per day to keep an eye on out-of-bounds students and other miscreants. Is it a wonder that, for a little private time alone, I want to have peace?" Covering his face with his hands, Snape watched Slughorn through his fingers.

Slughorn heaved himself out of his chair and went to stand behind Snape. "You look exactly like you did twenty years ago, hiding behind your hair, all nose and limbs."

"Let's forget all this nonsense about addiction and start anew. You said the other day that you still have some Sopophorous Beans, and that you were willing to share -"

"You were the most awkward and at the same time the proudest boy I ever met."

Slughorn stood very close now, his breath hot like that of a dragon. He pressed a kiss on the back of Snape's head. "During all those years when you were my student, I had to struggle daily with temptation. To keep my hands to myself was never an easy feat."

As if to underline his words, Slughorn's fingers began to stroke Snape's hair and neck. "What did you say? Ah yes, Sopophorous Beans. Of course I'm willing to share. My dearest boy ..."

* * *

A mustard-coloured smoking jacket lay discarded next to a silver dish with sweets and a glass of wine. Slughorn was slouching low in his chair, his enormous belly partly exposed where his lowest pyjama button had popped off. On a footstool before him sat Severus Snape.

The feet in Snape's lap were in stark contrast to his robes, rosy flesh laid out on black wool. Snape stroked the insteps from ankle to toe before he ran his fingers along the soles, applying pressure with his knuckles.

"Oh yes, yes, m'boy, exactly like that."

Slughorn wriggled his toes, the nails pedicured, polished and pink. "Pull them, pull my little piggies," he said. When Snape complied and pulled one toe after the other, Slughorn sank even lower in his chair. His hand sneaked inside his pyjama bottoms.

"Can you say it for me, Severus?"

"Say what?"

"This little pig went to market."

Snape raised an eyebrow and repeated in a low voice, "This little pig went to market."

"Perfect, Severus, go on."

"This little pig stayed at home."

"Oh yes, my sweet boy."

"This little pig had a bit of meat."

Slughorn took his cock out of his pyjamas and stroked himself with efficient motions.

"And this little pig had none."

"Poor little piggy-pig."

"This little pig said -"

"Sweet Merlin."

"Wee." Snape shook his head. "This is ridiculous."

"Oh come on, don't be a spoilsport."

"Wee. Wee. Wee. I can't find my way home."

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now suck them."

"You can't be serious."

"Severus, please."

His white belly now fully exposed, Slughorn resembled a stranded whale, helpless and dying. His breath came erratically while he pulled and squeezed his cock. Snape couldn't help but pity the grotesque figure before him. Slowly, he closed his lips around a stubby toe and started to suck.

"Wee, wee, wee. Wee, wee, wee," Slughorn called out in a jubilant voice. His strokes became more and more frantic - "wee, wee, wee," - and he came in strong spurts.

Snape got up and studied the books on the shelves while Slughorn performed a Cleaning Charm on himself.

"Another glass of wine? Why don't you sit down again?" Slughorn said, buttoning his pyjamas.

"It's late, and I have a potion to brew. If you just give me my bean, I'll be on my way."

"Of course, of course."

Slughorn took his jacket and searched its pockets. "Where do I have it? Ah yes. Here you are, my dear, exactly the right dosage," he said, presenting Snape a tiny vial.

"This is not according to our agreement. You promised me a Sopophorous Bean as ... payment for my services."

"Payment? Services? My dearest boy, where do you think we are? I offer this as a token of my gratitude, a present to a friend."

"Don't play with me, old man. I'm no one -"

"As a friend, naturally, I have a certain responsibility for your well-being. I can't simply close my eyes to your addiction. Maybe I shouldn't even give you this."

Snape grabbed the vial from Slughorn's hand before the other man could withdraw it. "I won't let you get away with that. I'll be back," he said and turned on his heels.

"Of course you will, of course."

* * *

Blowing Slughorn was in no way easy. To begin with, his prick was bigger than it looked like when hidden beneath cascading folds of flesh. Snape had difficulties breathing with a mouthful of cock, a problem that only intensified when his nose made contact with the bulk of Slughorn's belly.

Choking and coughing, Snape let go of the cock.

"Careful, m'boy, this isn't a sausage."

When Slughorn lay back on his bed, everything became easier. Now that he was able to breath, Snape could learn the texture of Slughorn's cock with his tongue, could become accustomed to its taste, could appreciate the other man's reactions to his ministrations.

It was intoxicating to have this kind of power, to be able to reduce another human being to a whimpering, quivering, nonsensical mass. Snape would never have admitted it, but he enjoyed himself. In his time as a Potions Master he'd swallowed worse than Slughorn's spunk, and in light of the compensation, it wasn't too bad.

* * *

Getting blown by Slughorn was an earth-shattering experience. Naturally, Snape wouldn't admit that either.

* * *

Severus Snape was lying naked on his belly, stock-still, his forehead resting on his arms.

"Relax, m'boy, relax," Slughorn said and continued to press kisses along Snape's spine.

"Hrnph," Snape said when hot breath and a tickling moustache ghosted over the sensitive area where his back met his bum. Warm hands parted Snape's arse cheeks and something hot and wet sneaked inside his cleft, circling his hole a few times before pushing right inside.

"Hrnph," Snape repeated.

Slughorn chuckled. His whole body vibrated, and his tongue fluttered deep inside Snape, sending shiver after shiver of wonderful sensations through him. Snape, unable to suppress his moans, pushed his arse up against the intruder, prompting him to go even deeper. Slughorn, still chuckling, obliged.

"So sweet, so responsive," Slughorn said, replacing his tongue with first one, then two slippery fingers.

Desperate for friction, Snape had started to rub his stiff prick on the bed, but Slughorn would have none of it. He held him in place with his knees, one on each side of Snape's thighs, the whole weight of his body now resting on Snape's lower legs.

"Careful, old man," Snape said with threat in his voice, but then - when Slughorn began to stroke his prick with one hand while fingerfucking him with the other - he moaned.

All of a sudden, Slughorn's hands - and his weight - were gone. Snape heard the fat man breathing heavily next to him. The bed shifted once more, curtains rustled and bedsprings screeched. Snape turned his head and saw Slughorn lying there - a stranded whale again - holding his belly in place with arms and hands, his prick a forlorn mast in danger of being swallowed by the leviathan.

"Could you please help me out here, m'boy? An old man shouldn't have to do all the work."

Snape moved over until he straddled the whale and shivered when their pricks made contact. Rubbing their heads against each other, Snape listened to Slughorn drawing a ragged breath. "Severus, please ..."

Slowly, Snape impaled himself on Slughorn's cock.

"My sweetest boy, oh."

The whale became lively again, bucking and moaning and struggling against gravity. Snape kept things firmly under control. Up and down, up and down he moved, riding Slughorn, the whale, the mythical monster.

"Oh," Slughorn said, and "oh," Snape repeated, "oh."

"Oh."

Pearly strings adorned Slughorn's white belly, and hot sperm filled Snape.

With a wave of his wand, Snape cleaned them both and donned his robes.

"Can't you stay a little while longer?" Slughorn - red in the face and panting - asked, patting the bed next to him.

Snape shook his head. "Just give me my potion."

Pointing in the direction of the mantle, Slughorn closed the bed curtains with an exhausted gesture of his wand.

Snape Accio'd the little vial and left.

* * *

"Why don't you stay for a bit, m'boy?"

* * *

"Just for a little while."

* * *

"Severus ..."

* * *

Loud music and the sounds of laughter flooded the hallway each time the door to Slughorn's office opened. Bunches of mistletoe hovered over kissing students. Barely hidden behind ornamented trees, the couples formed a guard of honour to the Slug Club's Christmas party.

Snape, on his way to Slughorn's quarters nearby, left a trail of terror and destruction in his wake, deducting house points and blasting mistletoe to smithereens. With the last student - a Hufflepuff girl in tears - skittering away and the last twig burnt to ashes, Snape had reached the portrait. Its inmates - a red-faced Bacchus and a couple of visiting satyrs - hid behind a huge barrel of wine. The painting swung open the moment Snape threatened it with his wand. It slammed shut with a protesting bang, but the noise was drowned out by the ear-splitting sound of exploding glass.

When Slughorn entered his quarters later that night, he stopped cold on the threshold, watery eyes bulging.

"Sweet Merlin, what ..." He wobbled dangerously and only managed to keep himself upright by clinging to the door frame.

"Severus, what ..." Slughorn angled for the footstool next to him. Down-feathers swirled up and fell to the floor, joining their mates that covered every surface in the room like a blanket of fresh fallen snow. Careful, he lowered himself on the seat, hiding the gashes in the velvet cover with his wide behind.

"What the hell happened here?" Slughorn, finally seated, asked.

Snape, who'd been standing in front of the fireplace with his back to the room, turned slowly around. "What do you think happened?" he said in a low, threatening voice. The wand in his hand accentuated his words with green sparks.

"I ... I don't know. Severus, my sweetest boy -"

"Stop calling me that. This little game is over."

"What ... but, Severus ... why?"

"It ended the moment I became aware of your betrayal." A red flash burst from Snape's wand, incinerating the last intact photograph on the mantelpiece. The Spanish Minister of Magic hid under his limousine, his mouth distorted in a silent scream, but the flames had no mercy.

"I didn't betray you. I'm not interested in anybody else. I adore you. ... Severus -"

"As if I cared for your dubious affections. Don't be ridiculous."

"Then how did I betray you? When?"

Snape crossed the room in two strides, broken glass crunching under his boots. "The moment you gave me that potion without telling me who made it."

Slughorn looked down at his feet. "You didn't seem much to care then," he said.

"Of course not." Snape grabbed Slughorn's collar and forced him to look up. "You let me believe that it was Granger's work."

"I meant no harm. Everybody knows how much you detest Harry. I only wanted -"

"You utter fool." Shaking Slughorn's unresisting body, Snape pressed his wand against the folds of his chin. Slughorn squeaked.

"I'm in charge of Potter's safety." Snape released his grip on Slughorn's collar, and the old man fell back on his stool like a sack of potatoes.

"The boy is my responsibility, if I like it or not. I have to know if he sleeps or walks the halls. I have to know what he eats, drinks and who his friends are. I even have to know his dreams."

"Sweet Merlin, Severus. And I thought you were obsessed with young Malfoy." Slughorn blinked slyly, but shrank back when a sudden burst of hot air from Snape's wand blew the tasselled hat off his head.

"That's something completely different. And none of your business."

Slughorn took a polka-dotted handkerchief from his jacket and wiped his face. "Are you sure that his safety is all that interests you in Harry? Your behaviour reminds me a bit of my own obsession with you when you were still my student."

"How dare you." A flick of Snape's wand Transfigured the polka-dotted handkerchief into a rope that slithered around Slughorn's neck.

"Harry Potter is the greatest hope of the Wizarding World, and at the same time its greatest weakness." With every word Snape spoke, the noose around Slughorn's neck tightened a bit more.

"I don't want to think about what evil may befall us if the enemy gets hold of him, his body or his mind."

Slughorn was blue in the face, his hands fighting a hopeless battle with the suffocating rope.

"Even the slightest alteration in his behaviour might be of interest. To know about a radical change of his talents and preferences ..."

Snape was very close to Slughorn's face now, who was wheezing desperately for air.

"... is of the utmost ..."

Spit was flying from Snape's mouth.

"... importance."

With a slash of his wand, Snape banished the noose. Coughing and choking, Slughorn rubbed his throat, now adorned with a thin red line like an old lady's necklace.

"I better go now," Snape said, "and leave you to your clean-up. Never pester me again."

"You'll be back," Slughorn said when Snape was at the door. "You still need your potion. Maybe I even forgive you."

Snape laughed out loud. "You astound me, old man. Are you so dense not to realize that I secured my payment before I destroyed your things?"

He took a glass vial out of his robes and shook it demonstratively. "Less than you owe me, but enough Sopophorous Beans to last until the next harvest. I'll be generous and declare us even. Good bye."

Snape rushed out of the door and didn't listen to the old man calling his name.

* * *

It was a moon and starless night. The darkness stretched endlessly, interrupted only by a couple of lights. The Headmaster's windows shone like a beacon, warm and yellow, a promise of shelter. On top of the Astronomy Tower, Snape's cigarette glowed red, a lost firefly. Snape flicked it over the parapet and watched it describing a twinkling arc before merging with the night sky. As soon as it was gone, a new light appeared, the blue glimmer of a wand tip. Then the firefly was back.

"You smoke too much, my dear," the voice of an old man said.

Snape didn't turn around. "What do you want? Is your pathetic weekly owl not enough anymore? Do you have to come after me personally now?"

"I sent these owls to keep you up to date with Harry's progress in Potions. You seemed interested the last time we talked."

"I discovered the secret behind his success. You can stop sending them."

After a long silence, Slughorn spoke again. "I heard about young Malfoy. I'm sorry."

"Draco is fine."

Snape walked along the ramparts, away from the door. On the other side of the tower, he leaned over the parapet again, dragging furiously at his cigarette so that it glowed a bright orange.

"Severus."

Whirling around, Snape directed his wand at the voice, its tip blazing white. Slughorn stood with his back pressed against the wall, his arms stretched out, as if he was striving to become one with the stones. Sweat was running down his face. His hat had slipped sidewards and was now covering one ear.

"Why do you follow me around? Didn't I make myself clear? Stop pestering me."

Slughorn shifted slightly, and his hat fell down. His eyes fixed on Snape, he didn't move to pick it up. "I care for you, my dearest boy, if you like it or not."

Snape snorted, then cursed when his cigarette burned his fingers. He dropped it and ground it with his boot heel. "Leave me alone."

"I wonder ... What are you even doing here, out of your quarters at this hour of the night? You surely haven't already run out of Sopophorous Beans?"

The wand in Snape's hand twitched, it's blazing tip drawing odd signs in the night sky. Snape lowered it and the light went out. The darkness was complete now, not even the Headmaster's tower could be seen from where they stood. Slughorn's heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard.

"It doesn't work anymore," Snape said after a while.

"But how can that be possible? The Draught of Living Death is too strong a concoction to simply loose its effect."

"Fool. The dosage I took has lost its effect on me. It isn't safe to take a higher dosage. The risk of sleeping forever is too great."

"I see. So what do you do now?"

"There's nothing I _can_ do, as you very well know."

Slughorn's breathing was nearly inaudible now, his voice soft. "And the dreams?"

"They haunt me. Night after night after night, they drive me out here, looking for peace. Satisfied, old man?"

A tentative hand touched Snape. He brushed it away. "Now that you have your answer, leave me alone. There's nothing to gain from continuing your little game."

The silence seemed to stretch endlessly, but then Slughorn spoke again. "I may have a solution to your problem. Visit me in my quarters tomorrow night."

"There is no solution to -"

"Visit me, m'boy, and you'll see."

Retreating footsteps shuffled through the silence. A door fell shut. Snape was alone in the darkness.

* * *

Snape was lying naked on his belly, his forehead resting on his arms. Slughorn - a lilac genie once more with its bottle dangling on chains from its outstretched hands - walked in circles around the bed. Black-blue smoke emanated from the intricately carved silver vessel and filled the room with a sweet, soporific odour. Snape's nose recognised olibanum, sandalwood, labdanum and a hint of Somalian myrrh. When Slughorn had finished his rounds, he set the thurible on the bedside table and took a little vial out of his pyjama pocket. Kneeling on the bed beside Snape, he poured its contents over Snape's back.

"This will help you, m'boy. Soon you'll be asleep," Slughorn said, massaging the oil into Snape's skin.

"I don't have trouble falling asleep," Snape said, his voice heavy and slurred.

"I know, I know. Don't worry, the incense will guard your sleep. Genial fragrances will penetrate your dreams and drive the nightmares away. If you dream at all, your dreams will be full of pleasures and delight."

Slughorn continued to massage Snape's back with soothing strokes. He kissed Snape's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I'll watch over you and wake you if you show any signs of distress. Now sleep, sweet boy, sleep."

Hot breath, a tickling moustache, and Snape slept.

* * *

Snape woke to the sensation of wet heat surrounding his cock. It was as if he had passed the borders from one fairy realm to another, taking peace and pleasure with him. Before he became fully aware of the fact that he was rutting in Slughorn's bed, and that Slughorn was holding his hips down, he gave in to the incredible feeling of joy and let himself go.

"What a perfect morning libation." Slughorn grinned like the cat that got the cream, a pearly droplet adorning the tip of his moustache.

"I can't believe it worked," Snape said, blinking the sleep from his eyes, "I never heard about magic like this."

"It's basically no magic at all. Just the power of the incense. Muggles use it for their religious rites. I merely added an ingredient here and there." Slughorn's grin turned even more smug.

"I don't suppose you want to share the recipe?" Taking his wand from the bedside table, Snape Accio'd his robes.

Slughorn took his own wand and pointed it in the direction of the windows. The moment they opened, a gush of fresh air filled the room, banishing the heavy odours of incense and sleep.

"That wasn't necessary," Snape complained and crawled under the covers to hide from the sudden chill.

"Of course it was, my dear," Slughorn said, leaning back on the pillows, "you wouldn't want to risk a headache now, would you?" He stretched an arm out and patted Snape's shoulder.

Snape fumbled with his robes, but didn't move.

"You surely have another five minutes," Slughorn said.

* * *

"It's called cuddling, you know, not curdling."

Snape snorted. "Spare me your abysmal puns if you want me to stay."

Slughorn pressed a kiss on Snape's shoulder.

* * *

"For a Slytherin, you're awfully touchy-feely."

"Am I not Slytherin enough for you?"

"On the contrary, Horace, you could out-Slytherin even Salazar himself." Snape shifted slightly to allow Slughorn to sneak an arm around his shoulders.

"What's so different about us Slytherins? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us -"

"Oh, shut up already."

* * *

 _It was hot, too hot to breathe, and when Severus opened his mouth to take in more air, he inhaled only sand and dust. Coughing, he tried to wipe the sand from his face and noticed that he was unable to move his hands. Severus struggled against his bonds. Not only were his hands stuck in place, his whole body was glued to a rough and unyielding surface like a fly to flypaper. His feet were the only parts of his body free to move. Wriggling his toes, Severus felt nothing but sand, stinging hot and burning. Severus' eyes were crusted over, and when he finally managed to open them, tears streamed down his face._

 _The sky was red, with red clouds drifting over a blazing red sun. Red sand covered the Astronomy Tower's ramparts and battlements . Either a cruel genie had transported the top of the tower to its home desert, or a terrible natural disaster had buried Hogwarts in sand. The gargoyles and pitched roofs had vanished, and all Severus could see were dunes and crippled little bushes that moved their leafless branches in the hot wind. Bleached bones were strewn everywhere, and vultures circled low. From time to time, they would swoop down to attack the plants. When Severus looked closer, he noticed that what he had first taken to be bushes were arms and hands, desperately grabbing for something to hold._

 _The Dark Lord's eyes were even redder than the sun, and his smile more dangerous than the attacking vultures. He circled the tower, his eyes fixed on Severus. "To allow me to come closer, you have to invite me in," the Dark Lord said. Struggling to get free, Severus tried desperately to avoid those eyes and to Occlude his mind._

 _"Invite him in," a voice whispered in Severus' ear, and from the corner of his eye, Severus could see the Headmaster standing at his side, his purple robes clashing with the red of the scenery._

 _While Severus still struggled with body and mind, the Dark Lord had found something on the ground next to him. Severus noticed a little hand growing out of the sand. An odd tattoo adorned its back. Severus couldn't see it clearly, but he was sure of its owner's identity._

 _"Invite him in," the Headmaster repeated more urgent._

 _Severus saw the Dark Lord gripping the hand as if he were about to weed it. "Master, come in," he said._

 _High pitched laughter filled the air, and the Dark Lord jumped over the parapet, taking the little hand with him. It turned out not to be Potter's at all, but Draco's, whose shrunken form was still attached to it. He looked and behaved like a Mandrake root, howling and trying to bite his master. The Dark Lord threw him over the parapet and watched with interest when the vultures snatched him while he was still airborne and tore him to pieces. "He was useless anyway," he said and turned around._

 _"Do it now," the Headmaster said and nudged Severus, who was all of a sudden free to move. "Kill me. You know it's necessary."_

 _"Kill him," the Dark Lord screeched._

 _"Kill me," the Headmaster repeated._

 _"Kill him."_

 _"Kill me."_

 _"Kill."_

 _"Kill."_

 _"Kill."_

 _"No," Severus screamed. "No."_

"No. No. Nooo."

A heavy weight was holding him down, and Snape struggled with all his might to get free.

"Shush, m'boy, shush, it's all right. I've got you. I'll keep you safe," he heard a whisper in the darkness. Only then did he realize that he was still screaming at the top of his lungs. Snape made an effort to close his mouth and swallowed. There was no sand to make him cough. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of dawn from the windows. It was enough light for Snape to recognise his surroundings and notice the look of worry in Slughorn's eyes. He shook his head to get rid of the last remnants of the dream. "It didn't work tonight," he said.

Slughorn angled for his wand on the bedside table and - after tucking them both in - opened the windows. "It's been working for nearly a month now. To be honest, I didn't expect it to be effective for such a long time."

Snape frowned and turned away from Slughorn. "I should've known not to trust you in the first place."

Pudgy arms enveloped Snape, and a bulk of soft flesh pressed against his back. "We'll look into it tomorrow. I'm sure that with a slight alteration of the formula, it'll work for another period of time. And after that we'll find something new."

"We?"

"Of course, of course. Dear boy, you don't think that I'll leave you in your misery?" Slughorn pressed himself even closer, and for once, Snape found comfort in his all-encompassing, fleshy embrace.

They lay like that for long moments before Slughorn started to nibble Snape's earlobe. Brushing Snape's hair aside, Slughorn treated the soft skin of Snape's neck with tender kisses and sharp little nips. "So sweet, so delicious," Slughorn mumbled, and a hard and eager cock poked Snape's back.

"Have you ever wondered," Snape said, turning around, "why your perception is that clouded? Most people would describe me as dour, cantankerous, an ugly and greasy git."

Every time Snape pinched and bit Slughorn's nipples to emphasise his words, the fat man moaned. "My sweet boy, your beauty is like that of a modern piece of art, it only reveals itself to the connoisseur. You're like the chestnut whose spiky husks contain the most delicious nuts. You're precious to me like a pearl, hidden inside a hard shell in the depth of the ocean."

Snape played with the folds of Slughorns belly while licking his way down. He pushed them back to have free access to the straining cock, already oozing droplets of precome. Circling the head with his tongue, Snape weighed the balls in one hand and stroked the shaft with the other. Finally, he sucked the head into his mouth. When Slughorn's variations of _m'boy_ , _sweet boy_ , _yes_ and _oh_ became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables and moans, Snape showed mercy and swallowed the whole length. Like a conductor an orchestra, he controlled Slughorn's voice now, made it swell with adoration and then become soft and pleading again.

A sudden dissonance let Snape's rhythm falter. "No, m'boy," Slughorn said more urgent, "I want to be inside you when I come."

It was Snape's turn to moan and whimper now, to plead and yell. Slughorn, relentless with his tongue and his fingers, reduced him to a boneless toy. When a blunt intruder, much bigger than a finger, nudged Snape's hole, he spread his legs wide and welcomed it. A heavy weight pressed Snape down, anchored him and sheltered him. It was difficult to move under those masses of flesh, but then they moved with him, and together they found their very own rhythm.

There was no refinement in their fucking, nothing of their usual games and fantasies. Thrusting and pushing, they fought a heated struggle of limbs, bones and fat, primeval and urgent. It was over all too soon. Succumbing to Slughorn's forceful passion, Snape came with a strangled cry. Slughorn followed immediately with a shout of triumph.

Side by side, they lay on the bed, allowing the fresh morning air to caress their sweaty bodies. Snape stroked Slughorn's forehead and his cheek with the back of his fingers. "Let me have men about me that are fat, sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights."

Slughorn chuckled. He caught Snape's hand in his and pressed a kiss to Snape's fingertips. "Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous."

Snape smirked, shrugged his shoulders and kissed Slughorn full on the lips.

* * *

The following night, the Headmaster died.

* * *


End file.
